


Peter, Neal, and The Machine

by Mickey_D



Category: White Collar
Genre: Alpha Peter, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - College/University, Explicit Sexual Content, Fucking Machines, M/M, Masturbation, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Neal Caffrey, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-27 09:53:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15683028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mickey_D/pseuds/Mickey_D
Summary: Mozzie stood over June's dining room table, arms crossed over his chest with a glass of wine in his hand. The plans were laid out over the table. They were perfect, just what Neal needed if he insisted on living his life like this. June sidled up to him with her own glass of wine. "How marvelous," she murmured after looking over Mozzie's plans."Oh I know. And I'll be able to get this all done by Christmas.""To a very merry Christmas," June toasted."To helping out a friend," Mozzie intoned.They clinked glasses and drank. "Now," June said after she swallowed, "are you ready for the next round of Parcheesi?"





	Peter, Neal, and The Machine

“And this is for Neal,” Peter said, santa hat clinging to Peter’s head despite its precarious perch. He passed a large package wrapped in shiny green paper to Neal who was sitting next to him sipping on his glass of spiked eggnog. Elizabeth took the glass as Neal eyed the package eagerly. He tore it open, revealing an unmarked box. Peter passed him the scissors to cut through the tape. Neal reached in and pulled out…

“What is that?” Jones asked.

“It’s one of my inventions,” Mozzie announced, eyes sparkling and cheeks rosy with wine.

“Why is there a cock on it?” Diana asked.

Neal, cheeks flaming, couldn’t tear his eyes away from the flesh colored dildo Diana acknowledged.

“It’s for heats. It’s a machine that approximates the presence of an alpha partner. You fill the tank there with water and turn this switch on so it heats up the water and then this switch makes the cock move. You can turn this dial to time the formation of the knot and then it ejaculates.”

“Oh my God,” Neal muttered. He gently placed the machine back in the box. “Thanks Moz,” he managed after clearing his throat.

Peter couldn’t quite get the images out of his mind. Mozzie had built Neal a fucking machine. Neal could use it during his next heat. Oh God.

* * *

 

Neal wasn’t answering his phone. Peter really tried not to worry, but that wasn’t exactly in his DNA. Neal had gone on a date last night. He’d texted Peter when he got home safely, but hadn’t replied when Peter texted this morning to hear how it’d gone. He hadn’t been in class. He hadn’t picked up when Peter called at lunch. He’d missed class with Elizabeth, too-- arguably Neal’s favorite class this semester.

Peter was heading to Neal’s apartment to check on him.

Maybe if he kept telling himself he wasn’t worried it would be true.

Neal’s apartment was on the second floor of a converted house. The stairs creaked as Peter hurried up them. The neighbors were fighting. Again. Their pheromones only heightened Peter’s anxiety. They should just break up already. They fought like this every other week. It couldn’t be healthy.

Peter fit his spare key into the lock and opened the door.

The scent filling Neal’s apartment nearly brought Peter to his knees. He closed the door behind him as calmly as he could. His hands shook so badly he could barely turn the lock. Peter was alert, senses picking up the smallest details-- cold breakfast on the coffee table, blanket abandoned on the floor of the hallway, no music or television on, bed springs creaking.

Neal was in heat. Peter should have checked his calendar.

Neal appeared at the end of the hallway. His cheeks were flushed, his hair was askew, his hands clutched at the wall when his knees trembled. There were red scratches on Neal’s thighs. Some of them were a bit bloody. Self-inflicted hopefully. Peter would murder anyone who touched Neal like that.

“Peter,” Neal whimpered.

The thought that he should leave, that they’d never talked about this rang in Peter’s head. The alpha in him refused to leave the vulnerable omega before him alone, suffering so.

He definitely needed to go.

Neal lost his grip on the wall and fell to his knees on the hardwood floors with a painful thud. He began to cry. Peter dropped his keys and bag by the door. He shrugged out of his jacket. He hurried to Neal’s side, sitting next to his best friend who had curled into the fetal position. “Neal,” Peter murmured, “I’m here. What can I do?”

Neal turned weeping blue eyes up to Peter. Peter’s mouth ran dry. Neal looked so far away, drowning in lust and pain. Wide eyes begged with an innocence Peter had never truly noticed before. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to touch, comfort, pleasure. He battled his will. He was more than his base instincts.

“Alpha,” Neal croaked. He uncurled a bit, struggling to get his limbs to cooperate with him. He reached for Peter. His hand, grip weak, curled around the alpha's arm. He got himself into Peter’s lap. Peter wrapped arms around the omega before he could stop himself. “Promise I’ll be so good. Please, alpha. Please. It hurts. I’ll be so good. So good…”

Peter’s heart clenched at Neal’s pleading. “Neal, no. I won’t.”

Neal sobbed, brow crumpling in confusion. “Please, alpha. Please!” He ripped himself out of Peter’s lap. He got on all fours with his slick inking hole facing Peter. Then he presented, lowering onto his elbows. Peter’s vision tunneled; all he could see was Neal’s ass.

Peter’s blood rushed south; he was dizzy with it. His mind was racing. He had to do something. He took a deep breath through his mouth despite the haze pheromones being so thick he could basically taste them. He stood up, looming over Neal. “Up, Neal.”

The omega whined and arched his back.

The alpha bristled at not being immediately obeyed.

“Omega, up.” Slowly, Neal got to his feet. He looked over his shoulder. “Bed.” Neal didn’t hesitate. He went to his bed, Peter followed, and Neal presented again once he was on the bed. “Good,” Peter said. Neal arched his back just a bit more at the praise. Peter looked around the room. Neal had to have something in here that would help. There was an overturned box of toys next to the bed. Neal moved have shoved it to the floor, accidentally or on purpose Peter didn’t know. The sheets and blankets, usually so neat, barely clung to the far corner of the bed. An empty plastic cup lay on its side where Neal’s pillows usually was. A dildo rested next to the closet, saving up energy beside a box whose flaps were open. Neal must have dropped the dildo when he went for the box. Peter’s arrival must have interrupted him.

When he got the box, memories, ones he'd tried to put out of his mind, of a Christmas present and Neal blushing pushed through the lust taking over most of Peter’s brain. God bless Mozzie’s engineering.

“Alpha, please,” Neal groaned.

Peter pulled the machine out of the box and strapped it to the bed. He shrugged out of his sweatshirt and passed it to Neal. “Hold this for me. Be good. I’ll be right there.” Neal took the sweatshirt and buried his face in it, inhaling the alpha scent and smiling. Peter took the small tank and filled it with warm water. He returned to the bedroom to attach the tank to the tube and turned it on.

Neal whined.

Peter swallowed hard. Every instinct in him told him--demanded--he take Neal. Soothe the ache that had Neal trembling. It was only in his job description as Neal’s best friend. He was meant to take care of him.

“Get yourself together,” Peter muttered to himself. To Neal he said, “C’mon buddy. I’ll help you.”

He put his hand on Neal’s hip and guided him back until the disturbingly life-like cock attached to Mozzie’s contraption tucked itself between Neal’s ass cheeks. Neal tried, against Peter’s hold, to get the cock in him. “Peter,” Neal whined.

Peter hushed him again and flipped one more switch. That cock, the one that wasn’t Peter’s, slowly eased itself forward. Neal let out a breathy sigh. Peter reined in his jealousy. He pulled his hand away. Free, Neal thrust his hips back, meeting the machine stroke for stroke. His first orgasm hit fast and hard. He sat back on the fake cock shuddering as it kept pushing into him.

Peter’s mouth was dry. His hands were shaking. He couldn’t peel his eyes away from Neal’s white knuckle grip on his sweatshirt, burying his face in the soft, well-worn fabric.

“Peter,” Neal groaned as Mozzie’s machine sped up.

Peter fell back, took a few tries to open the door, cured himself for locking the front door behind him as he heard Neal cry out a second climax, and stumbled down the stairs. The walk home was like a drunken ramble. Peter couldn’t really use anything clearly. Faces, concerned and annoyed, loomed out of the haze. He lurched and fumbled. He dropped his keys twice and couldn’t get his key in the lock on the first try. Luckily, his roommate was out because Peter face planted on the bed with a hand around his cock.

He grunted as his hand slid down, easy with precum, and bumped against his knot. All he could see was Neal on his hands and knees, showing off that delectable ass, slick smeared between his thighs. Neal opening up, letting a thick cock split him open. He couldn’t only imagine how wet, hot, tight Neal was. The sound of Neal cumming rang in Peter’s ears as his hand sped up, squeezing at the head, brushing over the sensitive skin of his knot. He wondered what Neal was doing now. Was he still able to be on his hands and knees, or had his arms given out? Was he cumming again, pink little cock jerking untouched, adding to the mess? Was he done with this round, sprawled on the bed with a knot tucked inside? Was his face buried in Peter’s sweatshirt still so he could pretend the cock filling him wasn’t attached to a machine but to Peter?

“Oh God,” Peter muttered.

Neal sweaty and sated beneath him, caught on Peter’s knot. Peter carefully letting his weight press Neal into the mattress. Neal tugging their entwined fingers closer so he could mouth at them tiredly. Peter murmuring sweetly in Neal’s ear as he got them situated more comfortably, waiting out the tie.

“Ah, ah,” Peter gasped, hand squeezing around his knot as his own climax washed over him.

He rolled to the side to avoid the wet spot he’d created. The image of Neal still flashed behind his eyes. He was stuck on it and the endorphins, all making him slow to react when his roommate rattled the lock with his key. Peter barely got the clean corner of his sheet over his still leaking cock before Jones came in.

Jones got one foot in the door before he stopped and wrinkled his nose. “You reek.”

“I’ll shower in a bit,” Peter mumbled.

“Okay, and open a window. I’m going to the gym.”

Jones was gone again. Peter threw back the sheet and squeezed his knot again. He had about an hour before Jones got back. Arousal still burned in his veins. He’d go again and then shower. He tucked his nose into the collar of his shirt. He could still smell Neal, sweet and intoxicating.

* * *

 

Peter cracked one eye open. Someone was knocking on his door and disturbing his nap. He pushed himself out of bed, pulling open the door while rubbing his eyes. He blinked blearily at Neal who was blushing.

“Hi, Peter,” Neal murmured.

“Hi, Neal.”

Neal smiled, ducked his head, and tucked a bit of hair behind his ear. “I brought your sweatshirt back.”  Neal offered up the garment, not able to look at Peter. “I washed it, so it shouldn’t, you know…” Neal trailed off and waved his hand in the air like it would explain what he didn’t seem to have words for.

Peter couldn’t stop the cold that crept into his heart. Neal washed the sweatshirt? Peter took it, turning to put it on his bed and assuming Neal would come in like always. He was confused when Neal remained at the door. “You don’t want to come in?”

“Nah,” Neal said affecting the character he played to put off overly kind old ladies or unwanted suitors. “I’ve got to get my study group.”

Peter frowned. “It’s Wednesday. Your group meets on Tuesdays.”

Neal looked at Peter, guilt, fear, embarrassment warring across his features. “I should go.”

“Neal, are you okay?”

Neal paled. Peter took a cautious step forward. “I’m fine, really.”

“Neal, please.”

“Peter,” Neal whimpered.

The alpha finished closing the space between them, wrapping his best friend in a hug. Neal gripped the back of Peter’s shirt and pressed his face where Peter’s neck met his shoulder. Peter rubbed Neal’s back as the omega began to cry. He coaxed  Neal into his room so they could be hidden from prying neighbors. Neal would hate to be seen like this. Peter got them on his bed, situated so Neal was tucked in his lap. It was best just to wait it all out. Neal would tell him whatever was wrong whenever he was ready.

“Why did you leave?”

The question startled Peter; it wasn’t one he’d been expecting. “What do you mean?”

“I-- I don’t know. Never mind. I--.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Peter grumbled. “Will you please explain it to me?”

Now there was a hint of anger in Neal’s voice. Apparently, Peter was being dense. “On Thursday. Why did you leave on Thursday?”

Oh. Well. Thursday. That should have been obvious, but… Peter thought back to what El had told him and what he’d read about. He knew about post-heat symptoms. He’d always been sure to be there for Neal after a heat. Omegas could feel off-balance after spending a heat alone. “Neal, I couldn’t stay. You weren’t in any state to consent. And you don’t have anything to be embarrassed about.”

“Of course I do! I was _in heat_ and you were still able to leave. I wanted you there, and you left. What alpha leaves an omega in heat like that?”

“You wanted me while you were in heat. You would have regretted it after.”

Neal pulled back enough to look at Peter. Peter’s heart clenched at the sight. Tears swam in those blue eyes, his hair was a bit mused. He clung to Peter’s shoulders--a little desperate, a little fearful. “No, no. I wouldn’t. Would… would you have?”

Peter brushed Neal’s hair out of the omega’s face. “No. I wouldn’t have regretted it.”

Neal closed his eyes and took a couple deep breaths. He nodded to himself like he’d decided something. Before Peter could object, Neal leaned in to plant a soft kiss on his lips. It was to brief for Peter to properly respond. “Thank you, Peter,” he murmured.

“You’re welcome, Neal.”

“I love you.”

Peter didn’t even need to hesitate or reflect. His reply was as easy as breathing. “I love you, too.”

Neal grinned, megawatt smile brightening the whole room. “Next time will you stay?”

“If you promise to go to dinner with me,” Peter bargained.

Neal gave him a considering look. “What if I don’t go to dinner, but still want you to stay?”

“I’ll still help if you want me to.”

Neal kept smiling. “Then I will go to dinner with you.”


End file.
